


Spheres in Commotion, Elements in Harmony

by Chantress



Series: And Yet Here We Are [8]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: "Jaskier Yes! :D", Anal Fingering, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Coming Untouched, Established Relationship, Feelings Realization, Jaskier | Dandelion is a Size Queen, Mild Breathplay, Multi, Pegging, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Spitroasting, Threesome - F/M/M, Top Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, jaskier no, sword puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:47:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22906489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chantress/pseuds/Chantress
Summary: Jaskier's curious. In a strictly objective, scientific sense, of course. Definitely.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: And Yet Here We Are [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1614133
Comments: 15
Kudos: 392





	Spheres in Commotion, Elements in Harmony

"Yen, I need you to fuck me. For science."  
  
Yennefer snorts. "While that's hardly _the_ worst pick-up line I've ever heard, it's definitely in the running for the top ten."  
  
"I'm serious." Jaskier leans closer. "It's... Okay, don't laugh, but... it's that new cock of yours. I can't stop thinking about it. I know the two of us don't normally..." He makes a vaguely suggestive gesture with both hands. "And that's fine! But. I don't know, maybe it's just that it's modeled after Geralt's, but I just... I want to see what it's like. Compare the real to the ideal, as it were. What do you say?"  
  
"I say you've had far too much to drink tonight," Yennefer says, sliding the wine bottle out of his reach.  
  
"I'm not suggesting this because I'm drunk!" Jaskier protests. "Well, I mean, I _am_ a bit tipsy, and I probably wouldn't have brought it up otherwise, but that's not the _point_. The _point_ is, you have a fabulous cock and I want it inside me in the worst way, and so help me I will lie down outside your door and sing love ballads to it every night until you change your mind."  
  
"And if you keep me awake with your caterwauling, I'll turn you into a toad and _crush_ you with the damn thing."  
  
"Pretty sure using your shiny magical dildo as a murder weapon would void the warranty on it."  
  
Yennefer laughs, shaking her head. "If I promise to think about it, will you spare me the nightly serenade?"  
  
Jaskier pouts a little, but acquiesces. "I will, my lady," he says, with a rather inebriated attempt at a courtly bow, "even if I have to wait a thousand years for your answer."  
  
"Hardly a thousand years," Yennefer says, rising from the table and patting him on the shoulder. "A few days, at most. Enough time for you to ask again properly, when you aren't three sheets to the wind." She inspects her already immaculate nails with a deliberately casual air. "And enough time for Geralt to get back, of course."  
  
"Sorry, what's... what's Geralt got to do with it?"  
  
"If you really think I'd fuck you without at least offering to let him watch, then you're even drunker than I thought."  
  
Jaskier groans and slides down further in his seat as she walks away, his head spinning at the mere notion of such a thing (or maybe that's just the wine again).  
  
_This is either the best idea I've ever had_ , he thinks, _or the absolute worst._  
  
***  
  
Geralt's called him fearless before, referring to their first meeting in Posada as much as the first time they went to bed together, with Geralt still running on the high of a successful hunt and the potions lingering in his bloodstream.  
  
But Jaskier thinks that maybe "fearless" isn't quite right. He still _feels_ afraid, but that feeling by itself is never enough to stop him from approaching whatever potentially dangerous thing it is that's caught his attention this time, because gods help him, but the _thrill_ of it is addictive. And that applies to taciturn Witchers as much as women with powerful, easily-angered husbands.  
  
And now he can include sorceresses in that tally too, apparently.  
  
Jaskier's always found Yennefer attractive, of course, but up until now it's been in an abstract sense, the way one can admire the power and majesty of a raging storm or a wildfire from a distance without necessarily wanting to experience it firsthand. But now... now Jaskier wants to run headlong right into the middle of that storm and let the lightning burn him to an extremely satisfied crisp.  
  
All right, so a big part of it _is_ curiosity, he admits. After so many nights of watching Geralt fall to pieces under Yennefer's ministrations, Jaskier would have to be made of stone not to find the thought of being in his place at least a little intriguing. And yes, Jaskier also wants to know how the wooden cock compares to the flesh-and-blood version he's already so familiar with.  
  
But if he's being perfectly honest with himself, there's more to it than just that.  
  
Jaskier's grown fond of Yennefer since the three of them stumbled into... whatever this complicated thing they have together is called. He appreciates her cutting wit, her intelligence, the closely guarded depths of tenderness she lavishes on Geralt despite the Witcher's reluctance to accept any such thing.  
  
If he's being perfectly honest with himself... Jaskier's not _in_ love with Yennefer, but he thinks he might _love_ her, all the same.  
  
Jaskier shakes his head at himself, smiling wryly. _Fearless indeed._  
  
***  
  
Not fearless enough to say anything to her about it, though, and by the time Geralt's returned and laconically expressed his interest in participating in the "experiment," things have moved into the bedroom at a startling pace, and while there are worse times to announce it, Jaskier's not convinced that saying "I have feelings for you" to a woman with three fingers in his ass is going to go over as well as he'd like.  
  
Jaskier stifles a groan against Geralt's thigh as those fingers slide in just a little deeper and _twist_.  
  
"Good?" Geralt says, petting the back of Jaskier's head.  
  
"How you can stand not to have her do this to you every second of every day is beyond me," Jaskier says, his breath catching in a near sob at the end as Yennefer slips in a fourth finger.  
  
"We haven't even gotten to the best part yet," she coos, and while Jaskier can't see her due to having his face buried in Geralt's lap while she has her way with his ass, he's oh-so-familiar with that tone of voice and can well imagine the smug little smile she's wearing as she opens him up.  
  
Which is remarkable even beyond the fever pitch of lust she's kindling in his body. Yen _never_ takes quite so long to prepare Geralt; one or the other of them will inevitably get impatient with the process well before this point and move things on to the main event.  
  
But now... if Jaskier didn't know better, he might think Yennefer's being _sweet_ with him, and while he's not fool enough to say no to that, it's still treading awfully close to all those dangerous words and feelings he's keeping locked away, and if she keeps being so godsdamned considerate of him, Jaskier's just going to blurt it all out anyway, which would probably result in Yen stopping what she's doing--or worse, _laughing_ at him--and that's a thought too terrible to contemplate.  
  
Jaskier whimpers and clutches at Geralt as Yennefer rubs her thumb against his rim, the rest of her fingers still buried inside him.  
  
"All right?" she says.  
  
"Better than," Jaskier gasps. "So far beyond all right I don't think it's even in the same kingdom anymore."  
  
Yennefer gives a pleased hum and runs her other hand down Jaskier's flank, soothing him like he's a skittish colt.  
  
"Want to try for a different continent?" she says, playful warmth in her voice.  
  
"Oh fuck, _please_ ," Jaskier says, his cock twitching in helpless arousal.  
  
Geralt keeps petting Jaskier's hair as Yennefer pulls her fingers free, and Jaskier melts into the comfort of that touch. Distantly, he notes the slick sounds of Yennefer applying more lubricant to her artificial cock, and groans in anticipation.  
  
"If I don't survive this," he says to Geralt, "I want you to have all my things. Except my lute. That's getting buried with me."  
  
Geralt chuckles. "I don't think any of your clothes would fit me, Jaskier."  
  
"Sell them, then, and buy lots of booze for my funeral. It'll be the most lavish party the Continent has ever seen. Pity I won't be able to attend."  
  
"No dying, bard," Yennefer says, gripping his hips. "You'll not deny me the pleasure of watching you try to walk tomorrow."  
  
Jaskier opens his mouth to respond, but all that comes out is a drawn-out moan as Yen presses her own hips forward, sliding into him in one slow, smooth thrust.  
  
"Melitele's holy _cunny--!_ "  
  
Jaskier's more than familiar with Geralt's cock by now, of course, and he's also had any number of other things in his ass over the years (including a carrot, but just that once, and only because he was young and terminally horny and there wasn't anything more appropriate handy at the time. And he'd _definitely_ washed it thoroughly before putting it back in the vegetable bin).  
  
But this... _this!_  
  
If he'd had to guess, Jaskier would have thought Yennefer's cock would feel like, well, wood: not exactly unfriendly, but appreciably different from the real thing. A fair assumption, especially since Geralt's never offered any commentary on the matter beyond "more" and "harder" and " _fuck_ , Yen, like that."  
  
He should have known better. If Yennefer's willing to pay an absolutely obscene amount of money for a cock that gives her as much pleasure as one she'd grown herself would have, it stands to reason she'd make sure the enjoyment went the other way, too.  
  
It doesn't feel like the real thing, not exactly; it's just a bit _too_ hard and unyielding for that. But Jaskier swears he can feel the heat and velvety softness of skin as she thrusts into him, and the length and girth is so like Geralt's that Jaskier groans out the Witcher's name before he can stop himself.  
  
The way Yennefer moves is entirely different though, sharper and more demanding, even as her grip on his hips is a bit gentler than Geralt's would be, and the contrast makes Jaskier dizzy.  
  
_It's almost like being fucked by both of them at once_ , he thinks, and nearly chokes on his own breath at the thought.  
  
"Still all right?" Yennefer asks, pausing and running a soothing hand up Jaskier's spine. "If it's too much..."  
  
"Not _enough_ ," Jaskier pants. "I need--fucking gods, Yen, Geralt, please, _please_ let me...!"  
  
He scrabbles at the front of Geralt's pants, sobbing with frustration. Geralt had said he was fine with just watching the proceedings, but Jaskier thinks he's going to fucking _die_ if he can't get his mouth on Geralt right this instant--die, or start spouting all kinds of things better left unsaid for the moment, and then he really _will_ die of incurable embarrassment. If Yen doesn't kill him first, that is.  
  
"Here," Geralt says, pushing Jaskier's hands away and undoing his stupid complicated Witcher pants himself. His cock springs free, and Jaskier falls on it like a starving man, almost choking when he tries to swallow too much of it too quickly.  
  
"Gently," Geralt murmurs, stroking his hand over Jaskier's hair. "It's not going anywhere."  
  
Jaskier groans around his length, and forces himself to take just a little bit more, just a little bit deeper, just to prove he _can_.  
  
"It's a wonder you've survived as long as you have, bard," Yennefer says, snapping her hips forward once more and wringing a startled moan out of Jaskier, "since you don't fucking _listen_."  
  
"He has other merits," Geralt says, gripping Jaskier's hair a little more firmly.  
  
Yen laughs breathlessly, subtly changing the angle of her thrusts; pleasure sparks through Jaskier's entire body, and he rocks back against her, desperate for more. "I'm starting to see what those are."  
  
It wasn't too much before, but now... now it _almost_ is, caught between two versions of his favorite cock in the world, between his two favorite _people_ in the world, who are talking about him like he's _their_ favorite...  
  
There are tears leaking from the corners of Jaskier's eyes, and he's starting to feel lightheaded, but he'd have to give up sucking this amazing cock to draw a proper breath, and Geralt's started making those little throaty growls that mean he's close, so how can he? And now Yennefer's crying out and clamping her hands down on Jaskier's hips almost as hard as Geralt would as she comes, and that bruising grip is enough to set off Jaskier's own orgasm, spilling over the sheets of their bed without even the slightest attention being paid to his cock, which would be just godsdamned _ridiculous_ if Jaskier had any brainpower left to consider anything but the incredible pleasure still being wrung out of him.  
  
Geralt makes an almost startled noise and tries to tug Jaskier off his cock, but Jaskier refuses to budge, working his tongue even harder as Geralt's seed floods his mouth in warm pulses.  
  
Jaskier's still licking at Geralt's softening cock, determined to get every last bit of him clean, when Yennefer pulls out. Jaskier makes a bereft noise at the loss, glaring over his shoulder at her. Or at least he tries to; he's still feeling a bit muzzy-headed and uncoordinated from pleasure, and doesn't manage to move much at all, really. Definitely not enough to turn his head.  
  
Geralt laughs softly, and rolls Jaskier over onto his back, away from the part of the bed that's rapidly becoming unpleasantly sticky, and they both watch Yennefer remove her cock from its harness and carefully clean it before tucking it away in its box.  
  
"Well then," Yennefer says, once she's returned to bed and cozied up next to Jaskier, "has your scientific curiosity been sufficiently satisfied?"  
  
Jaskier makes a small noise, half purr, half mumble, all pleasure.  
  
"I see." Yennefer reaches out and wipes a bit of Geralt's seed from the corner of Jaskier's mouth; Jaskier moans when she holds her finger up to his lips, and eagerly licks away the drop of pearly fluid.  
  
Yennefer keeps her finger there even after Jaskier's cleaned it thoroughly, looking down at him with a strange expression.  
  
"I can't fathom you sometimes," she says.  
  
"Yen...?"  
  
"You'll get your heart broken one of these days, giving it away as easily as you do."  
  
Jaskier's stomach does a funny flip, but he manages a smile. "I haven't regretted it yet."  
  
Yennefer just gives him a skeptical "Hmm" that would have done Geralt proud, and kisses Jaskier on the nose.  
  
Jaskier blushes and gropes for his usual fallback. Words have always been a good smokescreen for all the things he probably shouldn't reveal.  
  
"Well," he says, nudging Geralt in the ribs, "I always said it was a shame I couldn't suck you off and have you fuck me at the same time. Looks like my wish finally came true."  
  
"Looks like it," Geralt says, his voice low and amused.  
  
Yennefer snorts. "Need I remind you that _I_ was the one fucking you? Or do you need another demonstration?"  
  
"No, that's all right, I really don't think I could survive a second round. At least not tonight. We may have to perform some more experiments in the future, though, just to make sure the results are accurate. Ah. That is, if you want?"  
  
"I think I could be persuaded," Yennefer says.  
  
"Oh, wonderful! I'll look forward to that, once my poor ass is recovered. To return to our previous topic of debate, though, technically speaking, that _was_ Geralt's cock you were using, even if you were the one doing the actual fucking."  
  
Geralt humphs. "You got off, either way. What does it matter?"  
  
"Well, if I'm going to properly capture the experience in verse..."  
  
Yennefer groans and throws a pillow at him.  
  
***  
  
Some weeks later, as Geralt's passing through a town square on the way to collect his payment for taking out a pack of drowners in the nearby river, he notices a gaggle of young women staring at him. He's long used to stares by now, but definitely not used to those stares being accompanied by... titters.  
  
"Master Witcher!" one of them hails him. "Is it true what they say?"  
  
"Is _what_ true."  
  
More giggles.  
  
"About your swords, of course," another of the girls says.  
  
"What _about_ my swords?"  
  
"That..." She smothers another laugh behind her hand. "That you have two swords on your back to advertise that you've got two swords between your legs."  
  
"...Fuck."  
  
"Should we take that as a yes?" a third girl calls after him as he stalks away.  
  
" _My lover carries two blades, no matter the weather_ ," another warbles, " _but deadlier still are those under his leathers..._ "  
  
Geralt shakes his head to himself. There's no stopping Jaskier when he's decided on a course of action, no matter how ill-advised and potentially embarrassing it might be. And now because of that, everyone north of Nilfgaard has heard this highly embellished account of the night he and Yennefer fucked their bard silly, and consequently they all think Geralt is packing two entirely non-metaphorical dicks.  
  
But, of all the rumors and speculations that have dogged Geralt over the course of his long life, this is far from the most offensive. And if Jaskier's so eager to wax poetic about the experience, he and Yen may just have to plan a repeat performance. It wouldn't do for their sweet songbird to run out of material, after all.


End file.
